Walking Wounded
by Redconky
Summary: Ron has a case of survivor's guilt after Fred's death during the Battle of Hogwarts. Can Hermione help him move on? Rated T for some angst.


**Walking Wounded**

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but this idea of how Ron and Hermione got back together after the Battle of Hogwarts. The rest belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. Please read and review with kid gloves. Thanks for all of the positive and helpful feedback thus far! Enjoy!_

Six weeks had passed since the defeat of Voldemort and the deaths of so many of the wizards who fought against him and his followers, the Death Eaters. The Weasley family hadn't managed to escape without losses: Fred died in the Battle of Hogwarts and George had lost an ear months before that. Although Harry and Hermione weren't officially part of the Weasley clan, they were treated as such and had been invited to stay at the Burrow until they could sort out where they would go and what they would do next.

Little by little, life was returning to its normal rhythm: Molly was cooking and cleaning as therapy to keep herself occupied rather than allow herself time to grieve, Arthur was working insane hours at the Ministry of Magic trying to help Kingsley Shacklebolt get the wizarding world back on its feet, and George was struggling to stay on top of the workload at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – the shop he and his twin had founded together.

In an effort to return to something resembling normalcy (as well as avoid being recruited by Molly for cleaning detail and help George in the bargain), Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron were pulling shifts at the shop. Usually, Ginny and Hermione would go one day while Ron and Harry would go the next. There came a point when George realized he needed to close the shop for a few days to get supplies for the novelties: he was going to have to do some traveling to places like South America to restock on Instant Disappearing Powder from Peru and some other exotic locales for the equally unusual magical ingredients.

He didn't want the shop to be completely unattended, but he didn't know who to pick to stay in London. He thought about talking to Ron and Ginny about it, but Ron wasn't talking much these days. At first, George thought putting Ron out front would make him have to deal with people and perhaps help him return to his old self, but his glum, distant manner was actually scaring away customers. Therefore, George put Ron to work organizing inventory and cleaning up the shop at the end of the day.

George asked Harry to hang back one night and told Ron to go ahead home. Ron wasn't thrilled about this, but he couldn't summon the spirit to protest. As soon as he disapparated, George grabbed a chair and offered it to Harry.

"What's on your mind, George?"

"I need some advice, Harry. You know I need to leave for a few days to restock on supplies, but I want someone to stay here so the store won't be as vulnerable to thieves and vandals."

"Makes sense."

"The question is, who should I ask? I don't want to offend anybody by either asking or failing to ask. If you were me, who would you choose?"

Harry thought for a few minutes before answering.

"Well, we could kill two birds with one stone."

"What do you mean?" George asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Ron hasn't been the same since the battle."

"So I've noticed."

"During the battle, when I was in the Room of Requirement with Ron and Hermione – before Fred died – when Ron and Hermione shared . . . something. I don't think it's happened since."

"What? Did those two finally snog?"

Harry let a smile form on his face as he chuckled. "Yeah."

George laughed heartily. "About bloody time! But wait, you think it hasn't happened since then?"

"No. Hermione doesn't say anything outright – not even to Ginny – but I know she's at a loss as to what to do. I also know she's itching to get her parents back from Australia."

"I'd feel the same way – on both counts. But what does all this have to do with the store?"

"You could choose Ron and Hermione to watch the store. Tell them you want them to do the inventory while you're gone. If Molly throws a fit, you could argue that Ron knows where everything belongs and that Hermione can balance the books quicker than anyone else."

"All that is true," George agreed.

"They don't have any real privacy at the Burrow, and they need to talk. Ron's got a serious case of survivor's guilt, and if he doesn't get over it soon . . . well, I don't know for certain what will happen, but I'm sure it's nothing good. He might even lose Hermione."

"After all the time it's taken for them to get together, that would be unthinkable. I think this just might work. Plotting like this feels almost as good as when Fred and I made our grand exit out of Hogwarts!"

Harry and George began working out the finer points of the plan. Within an hour or so, Harry disapparated back to the Burrow and George began packing for his business trip.

It was just past dusk when George arrived at the Burrow, and the Weasleys and their houseguests were finishing a late supper. Molly knocked up an extra plate of roast beef, potatoes, peas and a biscuit when George told them of his travel plans.

"Are you sure it's safe to travel abroad right now? You might encounter Death Eaters," Arthur cautioned.

"I think they'll be too busy hiding to make offensive strikes," George said between mouthfuls. "Besides, I'll be out of business if I don't restock the shelves."

Arthur made a face to indicate he grudgingly agreed.

"So, who's going to watch the shop while you're gone?" Ginny asked.

"I thought since the shop needs to be closed for a few days anyway, it would be a good time to do inventory and balance the books. Ron, Hermione – can I count on you two to do the honors?"

"Certainly," Hermione answered immediately, looking over at Ron, who had uncharacteristically eaten little of his dinner. His appetite had diminished considerably since the battle, causing everyone but him alarm.

There was a long pause before George tried to get Ron to commit either way.

"What do you say, Ron?"

"Sure," Ron replied, looking down at his nearly full plate. "Excuse me," he said while picking up his plate and leaving the table.

When he was out of earshot, the topic of conversation turned to Ron's melancholy.

"I don't know what to do," Molly lamented. "He needs to think about the future. Now that the ministry is allowing all the young wizards who fought or fled You-Know-Who to take their exams to graduate so they can fill the empty posts at the ministry, he needs to study and get up to speed. Or he needs to make up his mind and join you at the shop full time. He needs to do . . . something."

Harry studied Hermione, knowing she was thinking about other things – in particular, the unfinished business that began in the Room of Requirement and her parents in Australia.

Later that night, while Hermione was packing the capacious beaded bag for the three-day "shift" at the shop, Harry and Ginny came in.

"Almost packed?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. Just looking for the solar charger for my laptop. The bookkeeping software makes the accounting much easier than the quill-and-parchment method."

There was an uneasy silence until Harry spoke up.

"Hermione, do you think Ron will finally talk to you about Fred and . . . well . . . everything?"

She stopped stuffing the bag and let out a heavy sigh. "I hope so. I need to get to Australia soon to bring back Mum and Dad and to take the N.E.W.T.S. so I can qualify to study Magical Law in the autumn."

"I thought you basically told Scrimgeour to sod off when he suggested that," Harry said.

"I did, but after Dobby and the war, I realized evil comes in many forms – not just the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Think about how the ministry so quickly turned on muggle-borns and others who weren't deemed 'worthy' of using magic or having equal rights. I also told Scrimgeour I wanted to do some good in the world; I think this is the best way I can accomplish that."

"I wouldn't want to oppose you in front of the Wizengamot," Ginny laughed.

"Me neither," Harry teased. "I'd better go check on Ron."

Ginny remained to help Hermione sort out what else she might need at the shop and possibly after-hours. George said he'd leave some money – both wizard currency and muggle money – in case they wanted an evening out. Hermione was determined to make the most of their time there, and to put that money to good use.

The door to Ron's room – which Harry had been sharing all these weeks – was cracked open. Ron was sitting on his bed, staring at an empty trunk.

"You'd better get packing, mate. You need to leave first thing in the morning."

"Maybe Ginny should go instead. She knows the inventory system pretty well."

Harry needed to salvage his plan, and fast.

"Ron, George asked you for a reason."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Harry lied. "But he wants you and Hermione to do this, and I think you need to get away for a few days. Maybe it's because he thinks you and Hermione make a good team. Don't forget, I couldn't have found and destroyed the horcruxes without you two."

Ron allowed the smallest of grins to form on his face, but it disappeared about as fast as it came. Harry then started rifling through Ron's bureau to help him pack.

"What are you doing with my Y-fronts?!" Ron protested.

"Putting them into the trunk, you dim-witted git! I told you, you're burning daylight!"

"Um, Harry, it's nighttime already."

"Even worse! C'mon, let's get this thing packed so we can get some sleep!"

Silently, Ron followed Harry's lead and within an hour, the trunk was ready for the morning.

Because of the weight of Ron's trunk, it was decided they would arrive at the shop via the Floo Network. A certain amount of balance was required for disapparation, and towing a hefty trunk was going to work against them in that form of transport. Hermione arrived first, followed shortly afterward by Ron. George was finishing casting security charms. He had already posted a sign on the front window:

CLOSED UNTIL MONDAY FOR INVENTORY

George explained what he had done in terms of security, and how they could undo and redo the charms if they decided to leave. He showed them the bedroom (he had changed the linens from his bed and Fred's), the little kitchen (being typical bachelors, they tended to eat out a lot), and all the other comforts of their flat. Hermione saw the deep, old-fashioned cast-iron tub and fantasized about taking a nice, unhurried bubble bath.

"I'm going to cover a lot of ground in a few days, so I doubt any owl will be able to keep up. Just use your best judgment if anything crops up," George said as he shook Ron's hand. Ron nodded in acknowledgement. As George hugged Hermione, he whispered in her ear, "I need all the brothers I can get. Try to bring Ron back, okay?" Hermione squeezed George a little to indicate she understood, but not so much as to make Ron jealous. She wasn't even sure Ron would be capable of jealousy at this point.

George disapparated, leaving Ron and Hermione alone for the first time in weeks.

"So, shall we start with the puking pastilles?" Hermione motioned with her head as she summoned a self-inking quill and parchment.

"Sure," Ron replied with about as much enthusiasm as he would have for ridding the Burrow's garden of gnomes.

Between Ron's uncanny memory for which products belonged where in the shop and Hermione's ability to crunch the numbers, they completed the front end of the shop's inventory in six hours. Hermione entered the last number into the computer, closed out the program, and shut it down. She took the laptop upstairs and connected the solar charger.

"Lumos," she commanded her wand, which she then rested on the charger.

"You haven't figured out how to power that thing with magic yet?" Ron asked.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm still looking for a spell to either mimic or produce electricity."

"_You_ haven't been able to find a spell? Blimey, that's saying something."

"Not one that I feel will provide me with adequate control and safety. I need a low-level steady current – not something that will level a village."

Hermione wandered upstairs to check the food situation, and Ron silently followed. She had half-expected not to find much, but was hoping she'd be wrong. All she found were condiments and a few bottles of butterbeer.

"I think we're going to need to make a trip to the market," Hermione said as she went into the drawer looking for money. She grabbed some of each currency – British pounds as well as knuts and sickles.

Ron was sitting by the window, staring down at the streets of Diagon Alley.

"C'mon, Ron."

"Hmm?"

"We need to get some groceries."

"You go ahead. I'll stay here."

"Oh no you won't, Ronald Bilius Weasley! I'm not going to endure your complaining that I didn't get this or that you don't like that or anything of the sort! You're coming with me!"

Ron shot Hermione that frightened look he gave his mother when she admonished him. It was the most animated she had seen him since Fred died. Although it wasn't exactly the way she wanted to shake him from his self-imposed stupor, she was pleased to see something besides the automaton he had become.

They walked out of the shop. Ron turned back to cast the security charms since Hermione's wand was recharging her laptop.

"Where to?" Ron asked.

"I'll bet you've never been to a muggle food market."

"No."

"Well, let's go. We've only a couple of hours before they close."

They headed for the Leaky Cauldron so they could pass through the barrier between Diagon Alley and muggle London. Hermione pulled out a map of the London Underground and her Oyster Card.

She led Ron into the station, where she paid their fares and before he realized it, they were on a train bound for London Bridge, though he wasn't sure why.

"I read about this places ages ago," Hermione said as they entered Borough Market. "I've always wanted to check it out."

Aside from the feasts at Hogwarts, Ron hadn't recalled ever seeing so much food in one place. Each stand had its own specialty, and they were all overflowing. Tomatoes, aubergines, cheeses, baguettes, apples, garlic cloves, eggs, meats and more were waiting for hungry shoppers to snap up.

Hermione borrowed Ron's wand and surreptitiously conjured a canvas shopping bag. They strolled from stand to stand in the Green Market until Hermione felt they had a little of all the ingredients they'd need through George's return home. Now that they had the initial supply, they could always use spells to make more food.

As they were about to leave, Hermione's stomach growled loudly.

"You hungry?" Ron asked.

"I must admit, I'm feeling somewhat peckish."

"Let's go over there. Whatever they're making smells really good," Ron said while nodding his head in the direction of a stand serving Thai seafood soup.

Hermione followed on his heels, and they stood in line for quite a while before they finally got to order. Hermione paid, and they made their way to a small table, where they set down their soup and their groceries.

The soup was so good they didn't even talk while eating. Ron ate with more enthusiasm than Hermione had seen in weeks. He was finished before she was halfway through.

"What if you want more? Do you just go up and ask for it?"

"No, Ron, it's not like Hogwarts where you get seconds by merely wishing for it." Realizing it was too risky to conjure a second helping, Hermione reached into the grocery bag and brought out two of the six pieces she bought of baklava.

"What's that?" Ron asked while furrowing his eyebrows with curiosity.

"Baklava. It's a Greek pastry, usually served for dessert. Try it."

Ron studied the sticky, multi-layered triangle, and took a small bite.

"What's in it?"

"What do you taste?"

"Dough, nuts and honey," Ron replied with a little food left in his mouth.

"That's about it."

"Why don't people have this all the time?" he asked after swallowing his larger second bite. "This is really good."

"Because phyllo dough takes a lot of work to make. Pastry chefs roll it and roll it until it's so thin you can see through it. Also, it takes many of those layers to make something and nuts aren't inexpensive."

"So, there are people who make their living in the muggle world just making stuff like this?"

"Umm-hmm," Hermione acknowledged while taking her first bite of baklava.

A wide smile spread across Ron's face.

"To make a living surrounded all day by food . . . that's my kind of job."

"Of course, some of the people who cook and bake for a living don't make much money."

"Who cares! You could eat all day!"

"No, you can't!" Hermione laughed as she playfully slapped Ron's arm. "They'd take it out of your pay, and you'd have nothing left for your bills!"

"Bills?"

"Bills – mortgage or rent, utilities, taxes, credit cards . . ." Hermione then realized these were probably foreign concepts for Ron as he shot her a puzzled look.

"I'll give you a crash course in muggle economics, but right now's not the time. We should head back to the shop." Hermione stood up, and before she could get to it, Ron grabbed the disposable bowls and spoons from their takeaway.

"I've got it," Ron said, flashing a small grin at her.

It was the best she had seen him in weeks. Perhaps Harry and George's plan was going to work after all.

Instead of going to the nearest underground station, Ron and Hermione walked a little. On the way, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a bookstore.

"Do you mind?" Hermione asked in a hopeful tone.

"No, of course not," Ron replied. "I'll wait out here with the groceries."

Hermione smiled with gratitude and headed into the shop. After about 20 minutes, Ron became anxious and saw Hermione pouring over a large cookbook with a stack of other cookbooks beside her. She also had a guidebook and an atlas of Australia. When she sensed Ron looming over her, she looked up.

"Sorry," she said. "Guess I lost track of time."

"It's all right," Ron said. "You going to take the lot?"

"No, just these three items." She picked up _The Joy of Cooking_, the _Rough Guide to Australia_ and the Michelin atlas of Australia.

"I wish I had thought when I left home last year to take Mum's copy of this cookbook with us, but it didn't seem so important at the time," Hermione said as she paid the cashier, her voice sort of trailing off as she spoke.

Ron opened the door for Hermione as they left the shop.

"You miss them, don't you?" he asked.

"Very much. I was so worried for so long that I wouldn't get to see them again. Now I just hope they'll forgive me for what I did."

"You were protecting them. Once they understand that, they'll forgive you. At least you'll know they've forgiven you."

Hermione sensed Ron wasn't really talking about her parents anymore.

"Ron, are you afraid you let Fred down?" She was shocked at how quickly she had said it after thinking it, but she couldn't help it. It was the first time she had some insight as to what had been going through Ron's brain, and she felt the need to seize the opportunity.

Ron picked up the books off of the floor Hermione wasn't going to buy.

"I'll put these back. Go ahead and pay. I'll meet you outside," Ron said flatly.

Hermione recognized this tactic: change the subject and do something else. In the past month or so, Ron had become a master at it. She nodded and went to the queue, but made a promise to herself to resume conversation once she left the shop.

When Hermione opened the door, Ron was leaning over an iron-wrought fence, looking into a small, private garden a few doors down. The setting sun caught his hair, making it look as if it was on fire. It was the same look Ron had worn at Fred's funeral.

She quietly took his side.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blurt that out."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Ron replied quietly. "I've been wandering around like some lost dog. I just can't . . . ."

"Can't what?"

"I can't feel the same as I did before." Hermione became alarmed, worried Ron was talking about them, but after a minute or so, he explained a bit better.

"I mean, I _knew_ when we began the horcrux hunt that you, Harry or I, or all of us might die. When Bellatrix was torturing you, I would have given anything to trade places with you so you weren't in pain. I was scared to death you were going to die. I couldn't have lived with that."

Hermione put her left hand on top of his right, which was holding onto the fence so tightly, as if he let go he might fall off the world.

"It's okay," Hermione said while squeezing his hand. "I'm here. It's over."

"It's not _all _okay," Ron retorted, finally turning towards her. "Fred's gone, with God alone knowing how many others. How can we just pick up and move on? It's like they were never here, like they didn't even matter. It's like . . . living is ignoring that they died." Ron turned away to conceal his tears. If he hadn't, he would have seen Hermione's own eyes watering.

A couple of minutes' silence ended with Hermione moving her hand to Ron's wrist.

"C'mon. I want to show you something."

Ron's grip slowly loosened, and he allowed Hermione to take his hand. She led him back to the Underground station, and within minutes they were heading somewhere other than the stop near The Leaky Cauldron.

When they got back to street level, they walked a short distance until they stopped before one of London's most famous landmarks.

"Hermione, why are we at St. Paul's Cathedral?"

"Sadly, it's too late for evensong," Hermione lamented. She quietly led him to the cathedral's steps, where she sat down, and Ron followed suit.

"Whenever I'd visit Grandma Granger, we had a series of rituals we'd follow. At least once during each visit, she'd bring me here for evensong. Before the choir began, she'd take me to see different parts of the cathedral. We couldn't see the whole thing at once, so each time we went we'd see another section. The time I remembered best was when she showed me the American Memorial Chapel. It sits behind the High Altar, which was damaged by bombs during the Second World War. She told me how the Nazis bombed London, and how people would sleep in the Underground stations to escape the nighttime bombs. She was sent away with other children to the country for protection, and when the war was over, her parents explained why so many friends and relatives were lost because of the bombs, or because they fought in the war. She said, 'Hermione, there will always be evil in the world. You must always fight for what you believe in, what's right, because life won't be worth living if the forces of darkness win.' I thought about that a lot while we were looking for the horcruxes."

Hermione let her small speech sink in. Ron broke the silence.

"Is that why you stayed with Harry when I left?"

"Yes." Hermione once again took Ron's hand. "You were willing to die so that Voldemort didn't win and claim more innocent victims. So was Harry, so was I and so was Fred. It's easy to say you love somebody – your family, your friends, whoever – but to die so they can live, that's worth more than anything anyone could ever say. Fred didn't die for nothing. The people listed on that memorial in there, or any memorial you've ever seen, didn't die for nothing. They died so we could live _freely_. We owe it to them to live, to truly live, not just exist."

"Because they're dead, we need to live life – not waste a minute?"

"Exactly!" Hermione nearly shouted, feeling hopeful that Ron was getting her point. "Your life has more value when others have sacrificed themselves for you. It's up to you to make your life count, to make a difference . . . to honor them."

Tears were rolling down Ron's face, but he held in the urge to let all of his sorrow out. Hermione let go of his hand, got up, and knelt on the step below him. He bent his head to try to hide his face, but Hermione was determined to help him properly grieve. She wrapped him in an embrace, forcing his head onto her shoulder. He finally let it all out: the pain, the misplaced guilt, the emptiness created by Fred's missing presence, and the fears he couldn't explain to himself, let alone anyone else.

A priest was walking down the steps, talking on his mobile phone when he noticed what he presumed to be a young couple. He also noticed the young man was crying.

"Let me call you back," the priest said as he approached them. After tucking his Blackberry into his right trouser pocket, he stopped a foot from Ron and Hermione and bent down.

"Are you alright?" the priest asked softly.

Ron let go of Hermione and began to wipe his eyes with his hands. The priest produced a handkerchief just as Ron finished drying his tears. Hermione felt compelled to explain without giving the real reason. She decided to be creative with the truth.

"Father, he recently lost his brother in battle . . . in Afghanistan."

"I'm so sorry, son. What was his name?"

Ron hesitated. He looked to Hermione for guidance, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod of permission.

"Fred. Fred Weasley."

The priest sat next to Ron and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Heavenly Father," the priest began with head bowed before Ron and Hermione knew what was happening, "please comfort this young man as he grieves the loss of his brother, Fred Weasley. We know he died in a just cause, to free your children from those who do not know justice, who mistreat others for their personal gain, who claim their beliefs give them the right to dole out death. Hold the Weasley family in your hands, assuring them that he is with You, where no more harm can come to him, and that they will be reunited with him in your eternal kingdom. We ask this in the name of your son, our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen."

"Amen," Hermione replied, knowing the routine.

"A-Amen," Ron replied, following Hermione's example. Ron looked up at the priest for the first time and offered a small smile to show his appreciation, though he had never been part of any muggle religious ritual before.

"Other than adding your brother's name to the list of dearly departed at this Sunday's service, is there anything I can do for you – I'm sorry, I didn't get your name--"

"Ron, and this is Hermione. I don't think so, Father, but thank you."

"You sure? I could give you a lift home, my car's just around the corner."

"That's alright, Father. We took the Tube," Hermione said.

"Oh, well, very well then. But if you change your mind, here's my card," the priest said as he pulled his business card and a pen out of his pocket. "This is my mobile," he said as he pointed to where he had just written. "Call if you or your husband needs anything."

Ron's eyes suddenly widened and Hermione blushed.

"Um, thanks Father . . . Timothy," Hermione said as she read his name from the card. "Actually, we're not married."

The priest's face lit up with a wide grin.

"It's actually Father Tim," he replied. "As for the not married part, I can fix that, too." He shook each of their hands and made his way down the remaining steps, pulling out his phone to call back whomever he had cut off when he had seen Ron and Hermione.

Hermione turned so she could sit down, her knees feeling sore from kneeling on the hard step. She finally let herself giggle a little, then finally let out a laugh. Ron was bewildered.

"What's so funny?"

"He thought we were _married_."

"Why is that funny?"

"It's not funny, like . . . I mean, it's funny 'cause we're not."

"But it's not like we couldn't be," Ron said in a low, serious tone.

It was Hermione's turn for her eyes to widen.

"Ronald . . . you haven't kissed me since we were in the Room of Requirement."

"Well, technically, you kissed me in the Room of Requirement," Ron corrected while standing up. "Which reminds me . . . ."

"Reminds you of what, exactly?" Hermione asked while rising to her feet to face him.

Ron tenderly took Hermione's face into his hands. He brushed back her hair with his left hand and gently massaged her cheek with his right thumb, with the remaining digits of his right hand cradling her head behind her ear.

Even though only seconds passed, it felt to Hermione like hours. He sapphire-blue eyes were penetrating her chocolate brown ones, his gaze searing her soul. Ron simultaneously bent his head down while tilting Hermione's upwards. As they closed the distance, each felt the pounding of the other's heart. At long last, their lips met in a gentle kiss. After a few seconds, they pulled back and looked at each other. Hermione smiled at Ron, running her fingers over his fairer-than-fair skin and through his tomato-hued hair. He smiled back, and they began kissing much more passionately.

A couple of minutes later, lips still locked, they heard a familiar voice shout.

"Save some for the wedding night!" It was Father Tim, shouting from his car. Ron and Hermione broke apart, embarrassed but laughing anyway, waving at him as he drove away.

"Can we ever do this without an audience?" Ron asked.

"I know someplace where we can have a little more privacy," Hermione whispered into Ron's ear.

"Right. Let's get home," Ron said. He then corrected himself. "I mean, the shop."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said while taking his hand to lead him back to the Underground station.


End file.
